


There Is Happiness Past the Blood and Bruise

by songbvrd



Series: Finale Fix-It Fics! [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x18 role reversal, 15x18-15x20 au, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Saileen, Boys Kissing, Castiel POV, Dean Winchester POV, Destiel endgame, Fix It Fic, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Sort of AU, finale fix it, saileen endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbvrd/pseuds/songbvrd
Summary: After Dean makes a deal with the Empty that it will come for him when he's truly happy, Dean realises what true happiness looks like for him, and he has some things to say to his best friend, Castiel.After Castiel is left alone with the reality of what Dean did and said, he tries to figure out how to move on, but realises he can't.OR, the one where I write a role reversal of 15x18 with a happy ending, because Cas deserved to hear he was loved and if Dean's arc had to end, it should've been with him finally facing his emotions.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Series: Finale Fix-It Fics! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025170
Comments: 5
Kudos: 92





	There Is Happiness Past the Blood and Bruise

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty -- so I hope you guys enjoy this. It was meant to be 2,000 words or so, but I just kept going, so here it is!
> 
> I thought the ending might've felt more complete if it was Dean who finally came to terms with his feelings and Cas who was left with the handprint, but I wound up being unable to write an ending that doesn't resolve with the two of them together (as it should have). 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! As always, please feel free to leave me any and all feedback, I love to read it!

They’re going to die in here. Dean can feel it, creeping up into his bloodstream like ice. The inevitable knowledge that this is the end. That there’s nothing else, no other plan, no way out. Cas is all burned out on angel mojo, and it’s all Dean can do not to collapse into himself there and then.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He can hear the words in his ears, but they’re not quite reaching him. “I was supposed to be your guardian angel. I was supposed to watch over you. All this time I’ve spent trying to make things better, and all I’ve done is make it worse.” He’s talking more to himself than to Dean, but Dean is barely listening anyway. 

He’s formulating. Dean knows he’s never been the smartest Winchester brother. Hell, he’s never even been one of the smartest members of Team Free Will. But he’s not stupid either, and people forgetting that has helped him more times than he can count. Actually, people assuming Dean is stupid goes well for him, it usually gives him an edge. It’s less frequent these days, after Sam and Dean have become sort of famous amongst hunters and monsters (a sentence Dean never wanted to think, let alone say). 

“I’ve spent this whole time trying to protect this family. And I have failed.” Cas is spiralling and it isn’t hard for Dean to notice. He’s heard him get like this before, but this is somewhat different. He’s spiralling because Billie is coming, and because Chuck is more powerful than ever, and because they are both almost certainly going to die. There’s no way Billie will stop at attacking Dean and they both know it. She wants Cas dead too, has wanted that for a long time. 

Cas goes against everything she stands for, he’s always been a rebel. It’s still funny for Dean to even think that, since he always viewed Cas as being sort of rigid. But by angel standards, Dean knows Castiel is more freed, more rebellious, than any other angel ever has been. Or at least, any other angel Dean can stand. Others have rebelled, but not to be good. Not for the sake of humanity. Not like Cas.

Dean hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what Chuck said to Cas since he absorbed Amara. 

‘The self hating angel of Thursday with a crack in his chassis.’ Dean hadn’t known at the time what it meant, but now, thinking about it, Dean has more of an idea. 

For one thing, he knows that in this world, this world and no other, Cas betrayed Heaven for them. Actually, Dean knows that Cas did it for him, specifically. He knows this because Cas has told him, more than once, and yet it still feels like some abstract thing, something that can’t possibly be true. He still doesn’t know, even now, what that means.

Honestly, Dean isn’t sure he wants to know. He’s allowed himself to very briefly consider the possibility that he does it out of love, rebels out of love, but he’s spent too long hoping for something that won’t happen-- and frankly, hearing Chuck confirm that it’s Dean that ‘broke’ Cas only makes his own self-hatred worse.

He can recall being told a thousand times about how much he hurts Cas, even without meaning to. How the very touch of him corrupts. How he’s poison. 

He knows, objectively, that none of this is true. He knows Cas makes his own choices. He knows Cas is a smart man, capable of acting due to his own will.

Dean isn’t sure he has the power to convince someone to betray their cosmic purpose, and he’s not sure he’d want to.

Maybe he’s biased about all this. Maybe he’ll never really understand why Cas made the decisions he made. Dean knows there’ve been mistakes on both sides. He knows he’s hurt Cas before, that Cas has hurt him before too. He knows they’ve got a lot of water under their bridge. He knows they were fighting just before this, that they’ve only just gotten back to where they were before.

But Dean figures after everything, there’s too much water under the bridge for them to ever really abandon each other. To ever even want to abandon each other. Cut, bleeding and falling apart, Dean and Cas have always found their way back to each other somehow.

When they were in purgatory, Dean had finally gotten control of his feelings enough to say something. Enough to apologise.

Cas deserved that apology, and Dean knew it even then. He deserved -- deserves -- to know what Dean feels about him. Dean has never been good at talking about his feelings, he’s barely ever said he loves anyone, even Sammy, who his whole life has been about saving, ever second since he was four years old. He’d only even said the words to two people, and he knows that of anyone in his life, Cas deserves to hear it. He knows Cas hasn’t heard it before, at least not from either Winchester.

He doubts Cas would’ve heard it from anyone else either, none of the angels strike him as the particularly loving kind. Dean thinks, if it’s the last thing he can do, he’s going to make sure that Cas hears it, at least once.

If he’s honest, Dean has never really understood the appeal of ‘true happiness’. When the Empty told him that it would come for him when he was truly happy, Dean thought it was a joke. He’d almost laughed at the time, made some crack about the joke being on the Empty, because Dean Winchester never had been or would be happy. Only now was Dean beginning to understand. His life never would be perfect. He never could expect perfection. That isn’t happiness for Dean though, it never was. What makes Dean happy isn’t the thought of having something he personally needs, it’s the thought of his family and friends being happy. Of them being free.

He realises that he’s done as much as he can do for them. He’s gone to bat for Sammy again and again, nearly every day of his life. He’s made a deal with the Empty in order to give Jack a life, and to give Cas and Sam back their son. His last possible option, the last thing he can do for his family, the best chance to make them all happy-- is this. 

One final sacrifice. It’s the Blaze of Glory Dean always wanted to die in, but more than that, it’s a death where his last act can be in service of his best friend. His last act can be letting his best friend know that, no matter how long it’s taken him to summon the words to say it, Cas is loved. He can’t speak for Sam, though he’s sure Sam loves Cas too, but he can speak for himself. And frankly, he probably should’ve done that a long time ago. 

He was only in the empty in the first place because of how many times he’d gotten to survive already. He’s been lucky -- or something like that -- to come back again and again, and Dean is tired. Life has been long and painful and when Dean died, like Billie promised, Dean went to the Empty. He thought that was it, that he’d be in the Empty forever. Annoying the Empty until it let him out wasn’t part of the plan, but Dean had realised back then that his family still needed him. He hadn’t been ready to go then, because he hadn’t been able to finish what he started. Because if he was woken up there, it was because his family needed him. Dean still thinks he didn’t deserve to come back that time, but at least it’s made it possible for him to save Cas this one last time. 

Honestly, Dean’s deal with the Empty was made somewhat in service of Cas anyway. He loves the kid, obviously, Jack had become a part of the family a long time ago-- but he was also thinking of Cas. Cas who had fought his ass off to keep Jack alive, to keep him safe. Dean knew then, as he knows now, that losing Jack would break Cas. Maybe Cas was meant to be a father, Dean thinks. He’s certainly good with Claire, far better than Dean has ever been. He’s a good person, or angel, or whatever, and Dean’s sure that’s why the other angels have always ostracised him the way they do. He’s kind. He’s too kind. He’s too much better than them.

Actually, Dean’s pretty sure he’s better than anyone he’s ever known, other than maybe Sammy. His family has always tried to save the world, always done the right thing. None of them are bad. But they’ve all made mistakes. Cas and the Leviathan. Dean and Michael. Sammy and Lucifer. Jack and his Mom. He could list a hundred more if he was really trying. Things they did that had nearly doomed them all, but which they had done for the right reasons. Neither of the Winchesters, nor either of their angels, had done anything out of spite or cruelty. They had always been acting with the right intentions. 

The choice to give himself up for Jack was easy. Jack was an innocent. He had life still to live. Dean was old now for a hunter, and he was only ever going to die bloody. There is no other ending for someone in this life, particularly not a Winchester. At this point, Dean considers both Jack and Cas Winchesters. 

Dean tells himself that he is toxic. That he hurts people. Dean has made too many mistakes. Dean has caused too many apocalypses. Dean’s life has always been about keeping his brother alive, since he was four years old-- and then, as an adult, it’s about saving his family. What is left of it after so long losing over and over again. 

Cas is still talking, but Dean isn’t hearing it. Dean is steeling himself to do what he knows he needs to do. If they are going to get out of this without Billie or someone else getting to them, Dean needs to be brave. Dean needs to make the shitty, tough call.

Really, he’s already made the call. He already knows what he’s going to say. At least kind of. He’s winging the specific words, but that’s sort of Dean’s aesthetic anyway. He says whatever’s on his mind and inevitably regrets it later.

The beauty of all of this is that Dean never will have to face it. The empty will come, him and Billie will be taken, and he’ll never have to see Cas’ response. He’ll be in the empty, and Cas won’t be going there. If anyone has to survive, it’s Cas. He and Sam are mortal, but Cas is meant to be in this world. The world isn’t right without Cas in it. 

“You’re not going to die in here,” Dean mutters under his breath, watching as Cas wards the door, tries to keep Billie from coming in, from getting to them. They don’t have time to wait, Dean knows it, and the best he can hope for is for Cas to make it out of this. For Cas to be there to be a father to Jack and a brother to Sam. 

“What?” Cas asks him, turning to face Dean. Dean is momentarily terrified beyond words, but he reminds himself of why he’s doing this. It’s for Cas. He’s sure now. This is what true happiness is.

True happiness is believing that even despite Chuck and all the torture, he actually was free. Because of his love. 

If Dean has gathered anything, it’s that he and Cas were never meant to become close. Cas rebelled against Heaven for him, and Dean fell in love with an Angel of the Lord. 

Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man, the Michael Sword, Chuck’s favourite pet, fell in love with a fallen angel, and there’s no going back. 

Dean’s tried, he’s really tried to get over Cas. He’s slept with women, he’s tried to convince himself it isn’t real. He’s tried to tell himself about angels not being able to feel love. Cas has told him as much himself, and he knows it to be true. He’s tried to remind himself about his father, how cruel John would be about this if he knew. But in truth, he gets nowhere. 

Every time he does it, Dean convinces himself this time will be different. He’s over it now, and he’s not a kid anymore, he knows that sometimes things don’t work out and it’s his responsibility to move on. But then he sees Cas again and it all goes to shit. 

“I made a deal with the Empty.” 

He can see the change in Cas’ expression instantly. 

He hates it. 

“For Jack.” He goes on, “The Empty told me… when I allowed myself to be truly happy, it’d come for me. In exchange for the kid.” His throat feels rough and painful, but Dean ignores it. He’ll be damned if he lets his stupid, fallible human body ruin this when they’re already running out of time. 

Dean tries not to cry— because he remembers his father saying crying is for babies and that he needs to be a man, but then he remembers his father also spent his childhood telling him that it was better for him to die than for any harm to come for Sammy. Dean remembers dinners going to bed unable to sleep from hunger pains so that Sammy could eat. He remembers bruises and and nightmares and tear stained pillows and he thinks, fuck John. 

Dean spent his entire life trying to be a good soldier, and if this is the end, he’ll be damned if he’s going to spend it holding back because of John fucking Winchester. 

Dean raised Sammy. Dean raised himself. Dean gave up everything for everyone again and again. If his last act of true happiness is being in love with an angel, finally owning both his sexuality and his heart, then so be it. Actually, he thinks it’s weirdly poetic. 

“Dean, why would you—?”

“I uh, I actually laughed when she said it. C’you believe that? I laughed. Because I just kept thinkin’— hell! I’ve never been happy. Don’t even know if I have that setting.” He pauses, tries to roughly clear away the emotion building in his throat and chest. He can feel his cheeks being wet by tears, but he ignores it. He’s earned these tears. He’s earned this confession.

Cas certainly has too. 

“But uh, guess it didn’t take me too long to figure it out. Maybe on some level I always knew.” He breathes heavily; trying hard not to notice the panic and confusion. The way Cas tips his head.

He’s adorable, Dean thinks, and that’s where the problem began. Bright blue eyes and a kind heart and an inquisitive mind. He had been so naive to the world when they met, despite his age, and Dean still remembers with fondness the way Cas’ defences slowly chipped away. Nights spent talking or car trips together. He remembers how empty his life had felt whenever they’d lost Cas, how he’d never been able to get over it. He remembers how losing Cas felt like losing a limb, and how he would wake up with the phantom sensation that Cas was still beside him, only to realise he was totally alone.

He hates to leave Cas alone now— but Cas doesn’t love Dean the same way. He isn’t capable of that. Dean has long since made his peace with that.

There was a time, when Cas was human, that Dean thought maybe. But then Cas had gone on another date, and Dean gave up.

He’d desperately tried to watch on with pride and love rather than jealousy, and he’d tried to remember that just friends was better than nothing at all.

Dean knew he was a hard person to love, even then. He knew Cas didn’t fully understand him.

Time hasn’t changed that much, though now, Dean recognises what’s changed. He would rather be rejected but have Cas know than protect himself and have Cas die in here never knowing that Dean has desperately loved him for years. 

“See, thing is, Cas, I, uh… I know what you are. I know you’re different than me and Sam, and I know… I know that I haven’t always treated you right. I have… a lot of shit I wanna apologise for, but not a lot of time.” 

Cas opens his mouth to speak, but Dean presses on. “When I- When I told you no one cares that you’re broken. That was a lie. I care. I care so much sometimes I think it’s going to tear me apart inside and I… I didn’t know how to deal with that. I was scared, and damaged, and I took it out on you. Because I was too weak to be honest. I’ve never been more like my Dad, and I hated it.” 

Fuck, it all hurts to say. It hurts Dean to force the words out, to force the bravery to explain, but he’s no poet, and he’s trying. 

“You’re not like your Dad, Dean, what’s going on?” Cas still looks confused, and it takes everything Dean has not to just grab him now. He’s better with actions than words, and god, he’d give anything to know what it was like to really be held by Cas just one time, but that isn’t what this is about. This isn’t about him, this is about Cas. 

He has a sudden flash of the Empty looking him in the eyes, telling him that it knows who he loves. That he’ll never have it, and he has to shove the fear down. He’s not trying to gain something from this. He’s trying to save Cas one last time. 

Besides, he jokes wryly with himself, he’s had to watch Cas die or suffer so many times, it’s about time Cas has a go. 

“Chuck says in every other world we… we turn on each other, right? I become a killing machine or…” He thinks of some of the worlds and shudders, “Or I turn on myself… You’re not the only one with a crack in your chassis, Cas.” The words are soft, like Dean can’t bring himself to use the same force he usually does. Dean hides behind anger and gruffness. He hides behind it because it’s easier than the truth, which is that underneath it all, Dean has a lot of feelings. He has a lot of emotions.

“What does that mean?” Cas asks, and Dean just keeps trying not to lose his nerve.

After this, it won’t matter. He’ll be gone and Cas will be free. He keeps telling himself that, over and over, that this is about Cas. This is about family. This is about keeping his family alive. This is about making sure Cas knows Dean loves him. That he’s always loved him. 

“I’ve spent the last ten years listening to people… say awful things to you. Tell you you’re broken. That you never fit in. That you’re… corrupted or… or there’s somethin’ wrong with you. There’s nothin’ wrong with you, Cas. You’re… you’re… you’re kind and loyal and Sammy and I are only alive because of you. A thousand times over. The world… is so much better for having you in it.” 

He pauses, taking another deep breath, trying to gather everything he wants to say into something coherent, something that will make sense to Cas, who seems to be taken aback and not really following what Dean is trying to say. 

“I… I never really understood what love was growin’ up. I mean, not really. You know my Dad was never really there and when he was… we weren’t better off for it. I never really knew how to… how to do anything except to protect Sammy. I spent my whole life trying to protect, since I didn’t know how to love properly. Never could… say the words. Or even really understand the feelings. If I’m bein’ honest, I didn’t believe in any of that good stuff. Romantic love or… angels or Heaven or anything I know you’re s’posed to believe in. The only thing I had worth believing in was me and Sammy.” He can feel tears wetting his face all over again, and he thinks it’s all over now. Now that he’s started digging into this place, this place of self hating, of sheer, raw vulnerability, there’s no going back. 

“You changed my mind.” Dean says slowly, and he forces himself to look into Cas’ eyes. They’re cloudy with confusion, but still a more brilliant blue than Dean ever believed in before he met Cas. His lips are parted slightly, and he looks completely lost, like he can’t figure out where Dean is going with this.

Dean has let him down in so many ways. He’s failed to show Cas how much he means. He’s failed in saving him. He’s failed in being a best friend even, he’s said unforgivable things too many times. Telling him to leave the bunker. Saying Cas was dead to him. Dean knows he never meant any of it, that he never, ever wanted to lose Cas. But he also knows himself well enough to know he has a tendency to lash out, to self sabotage. Especially when he’s grieving, especially when it’s about family. Dean would honestly give anything to go back. To fix it all, to be the kind of person Cas deserves in his life. 

He can’t go back though, the most he can do is to try to say it all now. To try to make sure that Cas understands it all once Dean is gone. 

“You turned your back on everything. On Heaven. You gave up everything, time and time and time again, for us. For a bunch of humans that would be gone in the blink of an eye for you. You-- you always showed up for us, even when we didn’t deserve it. You’re the only real best friend I’ve ever had. The only person who ever made me feel like I was… as important as Sam.” Maybe others had tried, but Cas was the only one to succeed. “You are… filled with so much bravery, and love, and compassion and…” Dean curls his fists at his side, trying to find it in him to say the one thing he’s been trying to say all along. 

He has more. He has so much more he wants to say that he doesn’t know how to put into words.

“I know… I know you’re different from us. I know angels… feel differently and I… I’m okay with that. I’m okay with that because all that really matters is that you’re going to survive this. That you’re going to look after Sammy and Jack and you’re going to save the world. Because you are not broken and you never have been. You are… so much more than they’d have you believe and I need you to know. I need you to know, before… before it comes for me, that…”

Three words. Dean only needs to say three words. Just three words and it’s all out there. He knows it’ll come for him, he knows it’ll be quick. He knows it’ll take Billie. He knows Cas will blame himself, but at least Cas will live on.

“The world wouldn’t be right without you in it, Man. I want you to… to have whatever you want outta this life. You’ve lived so many years for someone else. Please, for me, live some for you now.”

Dean swallows, and Cas’ eyes are wide and afraid. Dean thinks maybe he’s starting to realise what’s happening.

His own eyes are wide with shock, but he’s not crying, and Dean is glad, because that would break him. Maybe Cas is in shock. Dean isn’t sure if he’s ever really seen Cas cry like Dean himself is now, and he’s not sure his heart could take the weight of that.

“I think the reason… the reason I didn’t fall into what Chuck wanted me to be, the reason I didn’t… fall apart and become some evil killing machine is… because of you. Our… profound bond. We weren’t meant to have it. But… ever since you left that handprint on me, I’ve been… I’ve felt different. Like you… marked me right then and there. Like I’ve always been… yours. I think… I think it changed me, Cas. I think you made me better.” 

Dean wasn’t meant to love. Dean was meant to be a being of pure destruction, as Chuck had created him. In the end though, Cas is what changed him, because he’s not pure destruction. Not anymore. Love has outweighed his anger, and Dean has spent ten years denying it out of fear that it would never -- could never -- be reciprocated. Dean doesn’t know how to love without breaking, but it no longer matters, he realises. Dean can’t break Cas now, not when he’ll be gone any second. All Dean can do is what Dean has always been best at. Throwing himself in the line of fire to save the ones he loves. 

The only man Dean has ever been really in love with. The only man he ever will be now. 

“I love you.” 

Cas just stands there, tears finally filling up his eyes, and it’s all Dean can do not to reach out to him. He wants to kiss him so badly, to know before he dies, once and for all, what it would be like to be Cas’. He never will be Cas’, so it doesn’t matter, but at least he can leave Cas in the knowledge that Dean wanted to be. The least he can do is try to make sure Cas knows Dean adores him.

He wants to say more. He wants to say that he’s spent years dreaming about being together. Not even in any particularly physical way, just little moments. Dean being able to stand closer. Being able to reach out to Cas. Being able to put his hands on either side of Cas’ face, and not just when the angel is dying or seriously injured. He wants to be able to explain how badly he wanted to hug him at times, but stopped himself, damaged and struggling with who he was, with a fear of being rejected by his best friend. He wants to explain how badly he wants to settle down with Cas, to have a house and a bed and a dog. He wants to explain that he thinks he’s beautiful, that he has done for a long time.

He doesn’t have the time for any of that though, and Cas isn’t responding already, and he knows now that the Empty is coming. He can feel it. He can feel the change in himself. 

He’s spent his entire life hiding from everything. Hiding from his feelings and from who he was because of his father and because of Chuck and because of every other awful thing in his life. He’s spent so long denying his unmoving, unchanging love for Castiel that he can feel the weight lift off him. He feels like Atlas, finally freed, and his heart feels like it might explode, but it’s done.

“Dean, no…” Cas is whispering, looking like he’s about to break in half at any moment, but Dean just shoves him by the shoulder. He watches Cas fall, knowing full well the angel is stronger than him at any given moment, but it doesn’t matter.

He can see the blackness coming now. He watches as it envelops Billie, swallows her whole, reduces her to nothing. He can’t help the tearful smile that takes over his face.

If anyone can save the world, it’s his family. They don’t need him for that now, they have each other. Dean gets the hero’s death he’s always wanted, gets to finally be honest with himself, gets to finally let Cas know how loved he is. 

This is his true happiness. Leaving his family as okay as he possibly can, leaving them all knowing they were loved. By so many people, and so, so much, but never by anyone more than him. 

“Bye, Cas.” He watches the blackness come for him, watches as it surrounds him, and before he knows it, he’s gone.

*

Cas feels like he’s going to throw up. He’s not actually capable of throwing up, even with his grace fading, but he still feels ill. It’s an emotional illness, and he knows that, because he hasn’t really been an angel for a long time.

He and Dean have changed each other, that’s for sure, but not like Cas realised.

He feels like he can’t breathe, like air won’t go in. He feels like everything he just heard is wrong and fake, because the words aren’t sinking in, and the feelings aren’t forming.

He shouldn’t care, he knows it. He’s an angel. He’s not supposed to have the equipment, like Dean said.

Yet, as he sits in the empty bunker, his blue eyes stare up, horrified and emotional and wishing he could undo it all. He looks down at his own jacket and, seeing Dean’s handprint left there, bloody from where he had been injured earlier, and the irony isn’t lost on him.

Dean said that the handprint had made him Cas’, and now, here it is, on Cas. One last, bloody, temporary reminder that Dean Winchester was ever alive at all, that he had ever looked at Cas with so much love and loyalty and pain. 

It already feels like the memory is fading away, like he’s losing his grip on Dean, and Cas would do anything to bring him back. Anything to trade it over, to go in Dean’s place. Dean has already lost so much. Already suffered so much. Cas has tried to help, but he knows he’s made it so much worse at times, that he’s hurt Dean. Betrayed him. He knows he hasn’t earned this gesture.

He’s an angel. He’s lived a thousand lifetimes, and none of them were worth anything until Dean. Now Dean is gone. Because of him. For him.

Cas doesn’t want to be an angel anymore. He doesn’t want to live a thousand more lifetimes without Dean. He can’t just go visit him, not now, and he can’t believe he’s missed so many years that they could’ve been together. That he could’ve had Dean and that he could’ve been Dean’s. All the times he’s watched Dean and Sam, just being human, being together, being a family. All the times he’s seen Dean fall asleep mid movie or yawn during breakfast. He could have been there. Cas could have been by his side.

He wasn’t sure he knew how to feel heartbreak, but he’s sure now that he can. Maybe angels weren’t supposed to love, but maybe that was the crack in his chassis. Because he sure as hell loves Dean. He’s loved Dean since he first put him back together. Since he first stitched him back up. He had been expecting an entitled, childish, violent, angry creature. Instead, he’d gotten Dean. Instead, Cas had found a man who had done nothing but fight for those he loved since infancy. A man who had been convinced he didn’t matter. A man filled with hate and with doubt and with anger and sadness and so, so much love. 

He knows Dean even better now, misses him already, for all that he is and isn’t. Dean is an awful communicator. He makes constant juvenile jokes. He can be harsh and snippy and overly emotional at times. He can be superior. He can be reckless and thoughtless. But Dean is also hilarious and sincere and loyal and moralistic and genuinely, inherently kind. He always has been. He’s done nothing but try his best since Cas met him.

Cas isn’t ready to think of Dean in the past tense. He isn’t ready for Dean to be gone. 

He looks down at the handprint, and he wonders how he can ever look Sam and Jack in the eye and tell them Dean is gone. Dean is gone because of him. For him. He squeezes his eyes shut, lets the tears fall.

He lets himself be overcome by grief, because there’s nothing else. He doesn’t feel love or happiness or determination or hope or anything. All he feels is grief. A desperate, insurmountable, overwhelming grief. He tries to feel Dean’s soul, as he always has, tries to feel his existence somewhere in the world, just for his own comfort, but he finds nothing.

The string that has always connected them is still there, but Dean isn’t on the other end of it.

Cas collapses into himself, sobs until he thinks he can’t take it anymore. Until he thinks his whole vessel -- his whole body -- might fall apart. 

*

“You have to talk about it sometime, Cas.” Sam is saying, and Cas isn’t listening.

He told them what he could. What he was able. Dean made a deal with the Empty -- Jack knew that part -- he sacrificed himself for Cas. No one was surprised. This was what Dean did. What he had always done. 

Truthfully, Cas had been expecting a worse reaction from Sam. But Sam had seemed… not fine. He wasn’t fine by any stretch. But he seemed… unsurprised. Exhausted and empty. He still does, Cas realises, and he knows why. Because the world is ending, and Chuck isn’t any closer to being gone, and Dean is gone. 

The chances of the four of them making it out of this alive were always slim, but Cas thinks Sam is repressing it. Maybe he’s thinking he can deal with losing Dean once all this is over. Maybe he’s even planning to try to get him back somehow. If he is, Cas wishes Sam would tell him, because he’d want to be part of that plan. No matter what it is. Cas can’t leave Dean dead. He can’t. Not now especially.

“I’ve already told you.” Cas’ voice sounds lower than usual, more gravelly. He’s sure it’s because he’s been crying, and though he knows Dean would be drinking right now, Cas greatly regrets that he isn’t fully human yet. He’d even consider getting rid of his grace, except that he knows he’ll probably need it at some point. He knows they need to be at full strength, and right now, they’re not. Not even a little. Sam seems to be going blindly through the motions, and Cas thinks he’s basically a powder keg. Jack has receded into himself, barely speaks to either of them. Cas knows he blames himself.

Cas, for the most part, has barely done anything. He’s sat around, he’s tried drinking, though it does nothing for him. He’s tried to read, but it doesn’t help. He stares at that stupid etching of Dean’s initials for too long every day, and he knows Jack and Sam have seen him do it.

He knows they know more happened than what they’re letting on, but Cas has thus far refused to budge. He’s not even sure why.

It’s not shameful. Dean is gone now, and his last moments were choosing honesty and bravery. So why can’t Cas say it out loud? He knows he loves Dean too. He’s known it for years.

“No, you haven’t.” Sam argues, and Cas just stares at the carving in the wood. It’s beginning to look abstract, not even like letters anymore. He’s sure he could copy it exactly with his eyes closed. The exact edges and lines of the letters. 

“What do you want me to say, Sam?” Cas looks up at him, and he feels like his eyes are hanging out of his head. Despite his lack of a need for sleep, he feels exhausted. Physically pulled to the limit, emotionally raked over the coals.

He can hear Dean’s voice in his head, over and over again, like he’s really there. ‘I love you’. It’s possible, he supposes, that Dean didn’t mean it that way, but Dean doesn’t do anything by halves. Dean, as Cas had once told Jack, feels things more acutely than any human being he’s ever known. He would rarely overstate his own feelings, if ever.

“The truth.” Sam says. When Cas looks up at him, really looks at him, he realises Sam looks exhausted too. He has deep, dark circles under his eyes that Cas has never seen so bad on him before, even in years of suffering. His eyes are set on Cas with intensity, but there’s something to them. Like he’s holding back in some way. 

Cas wonders if Sam needs to know. He wonders if Sam is desperately holding onto a sense of purpose so he doesn’t break apart in the wake of Dean’s sacrifice. If that’s what it is, Cas can’t blame him. He feels like he’s falling apart himself.

“He said he had to be truly happy for the Empty to come for him.” Cas’ jaw is set, and he can’t bring himself to look in Sam’s eyes any longer. Sam picks halfheartedly at the edge of his blue flannel, it’s too short for his wrists, and it takes Cas a moment to realise it’s not Sam’s flannel. It’s Dean’s, he’s seen him wear it at least fifty times over the past ten years. 

“True happiness?” Sam sounds more confused now than ever, and Cas knows he’s right that Sam’s clinging to this. Clinging to a purpose. Clinging to a point. Poor Sam and Dean, who have known nothing except pain and loss and grief and each other. Cas thinks there will never be a crueler fate than one Winchester living and one dying. They don’t know how to exist without each other, and Cas understands. He feels like he’s forgotten how to live without Dean too. 

The group of them, their family, have become so intrinsically linked to each other. It’s not normal, Cas supposes, but what about them is. They don’t have jobs and lives and homes and children and Christmas days. They have each other. They’ve only ever had each other. Whenever one of them was missing, they could never be whole.

Dean, in many ways, was the glue that bound them. Now he was gone.

Cas doesn’t want to say the words. They were too vulnerable, and he’s too afraid to put it into the world. He still feels like it can’t be true. Like he must have misunderstood.

“He told me he loved me.” Cas manages, his voice sounding more strangled than he’s used to. He supposes he isn’t holding himself together as well as he might like to. He suddenly recalls how Dean talked about the time when he had gotten back from purgatory without Cas, and he feels a stab of regret. If it was anything like this, it must have been a deeply painful time for Dean. 

“Oh.” Sam rubs a hand over his face, and he looks even more tired somehow. 

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Cas begins, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want him to-- but I didn’t realise what he was trying to do until it was too late and I didn’t-- I didn’t even know he felt that way.” Cas stumbles over his own words, trying to explain to Sam. Trying to let him know that he never would’ve wanted this. That he would have preferred it be him than Dean, every time.

“Cas, man, it’s not your fault.” Sam says quickly, and his brows are knitting together in the middle. “I just… didn’t realise it was that serious.”

“You knew?” Cas blanks; how did Sam know and he didn’t?

“I suspected.” Sam manages, shaking his head, frowning at the table. “If only he’d said something sooner…” 

Cas’ eyes squeeze shut, and he tries hard to block out those thoughts. Billie is gone, and that is good, but not at this cost. Never at the cost of Dean. Of all of them, Dean was always the hero. He knows Sam and Jack would agree. He can’t entirely explain why, he just knows they all feel the same about that. Dean is… he’s the glue, that’s the only way Cas can think to describe it. There’s something about him, always has been.

The big brother who raised Sam when he was just a child himself. 

The man who Jack mimicked and imitated, desperate to be like him. 

The hero Cas had fallen for a million years ago, a man cracked and filled with self hate, yet filled with so much love for everyone else, there was barely room for anything else. 

“I… didn’t know,” Cas says finally, and he can feel tears threatening again. He can feel the indicative tightening in his throat. Oh, to be a real angel again, to forget about all this pain and heartbreak and all this emotion. But no, Cas knows he wouldn’t trade back a single second he got to spend with Dean. A single second he got to spend by this family’s side.

“I did.” Sam and Cas both look up, obviously shaken from their hushed and serious conversation by the sight of the youngest member of their family.

Jack looks tired too, worse for wear, and he carries a little cup of coffee, indicating he’s been to the kitchen before coming here. 

“He told you?” Sam asks, sounding a little offended, maybe. 

“Didn’t have to.” Jack adds, moving to sit down at the big table with the other two. His fathers. “Don’t know how anyone didn’t see it.” He yawns, and Cas thinks he looks more human than angel today too. 

He supposes none of them are coping well with this. Everyone’s gone, the world is empty. It’s just these three. And while Cas loves both Sam and Jack deeply, this is not how it was supposed to be. He’s positive of that. This family cannot ever be complete without its fourth member. 

“Could you have told me…?” Cas asks quietly, and the three of them break out into laughter. It sounds forced, and sad and emotional, like a smile at a funeral, but what else can they do? Cas sure as hell didn’t know before now, but he’s glad he does. He’s not sure if it would be more painful to lose Dean forever without knowing, or if the knowing is worse.

“What do we do?” Jack finally asks, glancing between the other two. 

*

“Whatever you want.” Sam is saying, his eyes big, his jaw clenched. He looks like he’s loathing every second of this, Cas is too. But what else can he do? “We’ll do whatever you want. Just… please. Make it right. Bring them back.”

“Dean, too.” Cas can’t help but add the words. It’s wrong-- Dean should be here. Dean should be standing by Cas’ side right now. His heart breaks just thinking about it, and he’s positive his father knows. About Dean’s confession, about Cas’ love. 

The second Chuck’s eyes land on him, Cas can feel it. The slight smirk on his face, the knowing look. He knows-- he knows what happened. How they got rid of Billie, what Dean said. He knows and he’s looking at Cas with that smug expression. He’s happy about this. Maybe this is his writer's ending. Sam’s brother, Jack’s father, the love of Cas’ life. Dean means too much to them all and he knows it. To let them all fade into nothing riddled with guilt and helplessness, with no family, no friends, and no one left to save. 

“Um… no. As cute as that is, this wasn’t what I wanted and we all know that.” He looks from Cas to Sam and back, “This is the wrong group of people.” He lets out a sigh, like a disappointed father talking to his infant child after they did something naughty, “I think I’m enjoying this story now though. The three of you, having to live with Dean’s sacrifice. Having to live without purpose. No Heaven to run to, no Dean to hide behind.” He huffs out a breath, then smiles at them both. “So congratulations, boys. Look around. Look at the world, look at the people -- or lack, thereof -- and remember… it’s your fault. All of this, it’s your fault. If you had done as you were told, none of this would’ve ever happened,” He rubbed his hands together, “Oh well. Have fun, boys.” 

*

Cas had known something was wrong with Jack ever since he had that rib but hadn’t burst as he was supposed to. But Cas is only realising how serious it is now, when he watches the plants behind him fall. It doesn’t take Sam and Cas long to figure out what that means.

Still, Lucifer is something of an added bonus. Michael too. Cas has nothing good to say about either of them, really, or about any member of his family that’s still breathing. Still, hearing Dean’s voice through the phone is enough to send Cas into a full emotional meltdown. He has neither the time, nor the energy though, so he has to keep going.

Still, the one brief, shining moment where he thinks Dean is outside is the best thing he’s experienced in the weeks that have limped by since Dean’s sacrifice. 

He has no interest in seeing the other two, particularly not after having Lucifer inside his vessel, but he figures if they’re useful, that’s the most he can hope for.

It all goes relatively to plan. He sees Jack take the power from Lucifer. He knows -- understands -- that this is what has to happen, but it still doesn’t feel right. He knows about Michael too, that he’ll have to die as well.

Cas thinks some part of him should mourn, but none does. Like Jack himself, Cas has never had a family amongst the angels. The Winchesters were his family. Team Free Will, right here in this bunker. 

It’s before they go to complete the plan that Cas pulls Jack aside. They go off, just the two of them, under the guise of getting some ingredient they need for their fake spell. Cas is spiralling more and more, but he can’t. He doesn’t have the energy, he doesn’t have the capacity. If he lets himself fall to the grief, he knows he won’t get back up. And then what Dean did will be for nothing, so Cas has to carry on. No matter how badly it hurts. No matter how much he feels as though a part of him is irreparably gone. 

“Take my grace,” Cas says the words slowly, looking up at Jack, intent and serious.

“I might not need--” 

“It can’t hurt.” 

“But Cas, if I take your grace…” His brows furrow, “I know you said… that we had to be okay with everyone we love dying, but you’re meant to stay with me. You’re an angel, you’re not… you’re not meant to be a blip in my life.” 

Cas swallows hard, shakes his head. “I haven’t been an angel for a long time, Jack, not really. And I… don’t want to be an angel anymore. I don’t want to live a thousand more lifetimes.”

“Without him.” Jack fills in, blinking at him, a slight pout on his lips. 

There’s no point denying it, Cas decides, since Jack is right and he knows it.

“If he died so that we could live, then… we have to do that. And we don’t live unless Chuck gets stopped. Not really. I know I’m not as strong as Michael or Lucifer, but… it will help. It will still make you stronger.” 

Jack nods slowly, “A lot.” He concedes, because though Cas is no archangel, an extra angel’s grace is not nothing. It will make Jack significantly stronger, cut down the fight by half. 

“Michael will notice,” Cas says slowly, “But I’ve told him my grace is fading.” He pauses, sighing, “It’s not untrue, but it’s nowhere near gone yet. Perhaps we can… let him believe it was just… gone.” He takes a deep breath, figuring if he has to part with his grace, this is the right reason.

Dean had once told Cas that he was just a hammer, just a tool of dick angels. Cas had later told him he wasn’t just a tool, that he had thoughts and doubts and his own wants. How appropriate, Cas thinks, that in the end, that dissent will make him permanently human. How poetic that that dissent was born out of love for Dean himself.

*

Michael’s body falls, and Chuck rounds on Cas and Sam. Jack is still laying by the bank of the water, either knocked out or pretending to be. Michael’s grace will have gone to him, his power, and Jack now has every bit of two archangels and a third angel’s power inside him. Cas can feel it, even as a human, and he wonders how Chuck can’t.

Maybe Cas being able to feel it has come less from some literal power though, and more from knowing Jack. From fathering him. From being able to read his emotions, his reactions.

When Chuck rounds on Sam and Cas, Cas knows there’s hate there. Chuck pretends to be above it all, pretends to be some all-knowing, all-seeing thing. He’s not though-- he’s just older than them. He’s not perfect or flawless or all-loving. He’s nothing like the religions think he is, and nothing like Cas himself thought he was in the past. 

When he starts to knock them both to their knees, Cas feels no surprise. He doesn’t even really feel hurt. Or betrayed anymore. He’s long since lost his faith in his Father. His faith is all with his family now. His real family. And his family is winning this fight, even if Chuck doesn’t know it.

He sees the gold bright light, sees the way it changes Jack. He sees Chuck fall. He knows it’s over. He knows it’s done.

But then they’re both healed, human and complete again, no more blood or broken bones, and they’re back in the bunker. Jack is gone, God and all, and the two of them are on their own.

The bunker seems big. Huge. Empty. 

Sam doesn’t ask any questions when Cas begins sleeping in Dean’s room. Maybe it’s an invasion of privacy, he isn’t sure, but Dean is gone and Jack didn’t stick around for them to ask him to bring Dean back. Besides, he now knows that Dean loved him. For years. And if this is the last of Dean he has, he wants to actually have it. 

Miracle has taken up residence in Dean’s bed too. The dog never got to meet him, and Cas thinks that’s a travesty, especially since the dog sort of reminds him of Dean somehow, but when he found the creature out in the middle of nowhere, he figured he needed to take it home. If not for himself, then for Dean. He knows Dean would’ve taken it in, and besides, the bunker feels too empty now.

Sam bonds with it too, but not in the same way Cas does. Cas has never had affection in his life. Certainly not as an angel, but only very minimally as a part of this family. The odd hug. Dean’s hand on his shoulder. Sam patting him on the back.

Nearly nothing. Miracle sleeps beside him in Dean’s bed, and Cas wonders how long it’ll take for the smell of Dean to fade away.

Now that he sleeps, now that he’s human, Cas has to contend with the nightmares too. 

The nightmares are horrible, and he understands now why Dean never slept as much as a man of his size and age should’ve. Mostly, he dreams about things he’s already seen, which is worse somehow. He dreams about all the thousands of Deans that Naomi forced him to kill. He dreams about the Empty, taking Dean as he smiled. He dreams about the Dean he had found in hell, ripped to pieces and not at all the man he’s come to know. He dreams about losing Sam and Jack. Dreams about losing Miracle even.

He almost never has good dreams.

But when he does, they’re Dean too. Dean’s hands in his hair. Dean laying beside him in this bed, the dog at their feet. Dean just singing in the impala, as he so often did, a smile on his face. Dean’s hands on the sides of his face, not because he was dying or hurt, but because Dean wanted them there. He dreams of having family dinners with them where he can eat, where he can hold Dean’s hand easily. He dreams of a life. A real life with Dean. A human one, no more hiding or suffering.

Cas has tried, more than once, to get Jack to bring Dean back. Jack always says the same thing.

“It’s not that simple, Castiel.” 

Every time, Cas feels like he’s going to tear his hair out. 

Being human is hard, he’s known that for some time now, since he’s done it before, for a time. But this is different. Everything’s changed. He knows things now. He raised God, he fell for a human, that human died for him. How can he ever settle back into regular life after that? 

He knows Sam has asked too, they’ve discussed it, from time to time. They still talk about Dean sometimes, but other times, they both ignore it. It’s the elephant in the room, the thing they both know they’ll never get over, but sometimes, they can’t say the words.

He’s already there anyway, in all the unspoken words, all the omelettes they cook or the beers they drink. Every case they search. Dean’s there. He’s there and he won’t ever go away, because he is a vital part of their lives. Of their families.

Cas suspects Sam isn’t seeing Eileen because of his grief, and while he understands, Cas finds himself getting quickly fed up with it. 

“Dean wouldn’t want this.” He says. He doesn’t want to bring Dean up, but he knows the battle will be far quicker if he does. Cas and Sam have never had so much time alone together before, and they are becoming like actual brothers. They already were, but they bicker more now. Sam clearly knows Cas has pulled out the big guns, and Cas isn’t above it.

“Dean can’t want anything, he’s dead.” Cas would be angry at Sam for answering so harshly, if not for the way his voice cracked when he spoke. In the end, it softens Cas rather than hardens him. He knows how Sam is hurting-- he is too.

“No, he can’t. But he did what he did because he wanted us to live. Because he wanted us to be happy and have lives.” He sighs, “I know it’s not the same without him, but--” 

“And what about you, Cas? Are you going to move on?”

It’s a snap, and Cas has almost never heard Sam react like that. At least, not often. Dean has always been the more prickly of the two, though without Dean, the dynamics have changed somewhat.

Cas is gentle with his response, “It’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve known him a lot longer.” Sam looks emotional, and Cas decides now isn’t the time to continue the conversation. It took him a long time to grasp human cues, but he is getting better, and Sam is getting far less reserved in his emotional displays.

Cas can’t help but wonder whether or not Sam blames him. Whether he looks at Cas and sees the reason his brother is dead (again). Whether he wishes Cas wasn’t there, since Dean had done it to save Cas. After all, Billie was dying anyway. The only difference it made was that Cas walked out and Dean didn’t.

*

It’s another few weeks before Cas decides he can’t just let it drop. If not for Sam’s sake, then for Dean’s too. He figures, sure, Sam will probably hate him at first, but hey, if Cas is Sam’s brother too, then that sort of comes with the package anyway.

He calls Eileen on FaceTime, signs with her over the phone, since he knows it’s easier for her. Speaking languages is a skill he’s kept despite being newly human, which makes things easier.

He explains, about Sam, about Dean, about Chuck and Jack. He explains that Sam seems to be drowning, that he could really use Eileen here. He explains that Sam is pushing people away, that he might not be happy Cas called her at first, but that he really thinks Sam needs her.

When she shows up a day later with a bag packed, her expression steely and unwavering, Sam looks livid. He turns on Cas, and for a split second, Cas thinks he might hit him or something. 

Instead, Sam begins to cry. He doubles over, and Cas hasn’t ever seen him like this. Eileen doesn’t seem to have either, but she wastes no time folding him up in her arms and whispering to him until he calms down.

Cas sees himself out, figuring this was his only real part of the plan. This is, essentially, what he hoped would happen. He wouldn’t have been mad is Sam had hit him, he knows Sam is struggling. That he’s weighed down by it all as much as Cas himself is, but when Cas settles into Dean’s bed that night, he finds that he can barely find the smell at all. He finds that the room feels emptier somehow, and the weight on his heart feels far heavier. 

*

Cas’ muscles feel tight. He must have slept funny, but he can’t remember how. 

Sam smiles when he catches sight of him, stretching out at the breakfast table, a piece of toast in his mouth.

“Never seen you look so human,” Sam tells him, and Cas figures today is a good day. Sam seems in higher spirits, and he’s sure that’s at least partly due to Eileen’s ongoing presence in the bunker. He’s still sad, and there’s no getting around that, but he’s not drowning like he was before, and Cas is glad. Proud that he had helped in some way.

“Yeah, well… figure if I’m living this way now, may as well look the part.” It’s still a lot to get used to, even having done it before. 

Cas is sure Sam is more referring to the fact that Cas is wearing one of Dean’s shirts, but he ignores it. He’s done being ashamed, especially now. After everything, he figures the least he can do is be proud to have some piece of Dean still with him. All the rooms in the bunker and he chose Dean’s. It wasn’t an accident, he knows Sam knows that. 

Still, Sam is kind about it-- he never calls Cas on it, and even now, with his little comment about Cas looking human, Cas knows it’s in good spirits. He knows Sam isn’t mad or upset, and he’s thankful for that. 

“You still down for that potential case?” Sam asks, pouring himself coffee. 

Cas nods, stretching and hearing the sound of his back cracking. 

Sam raises his brows at him, and Cas shrugs, “Still getting used to being human. Miracle takes up a lot of space.”

*

By the time they get to the barn, both hunters are tired, already. They’ve gotten out of the habit now, after months of mourning and pulling themselves together. Dean would probably laugh about it, say they were getting sloppy, but he isn’t here. 

Cas doesn’t really want to look at the barn. It’s too familiar. He remembers turning up here last time. Remembers Dean’s guarded stance. He remembers seeing him, up and walking and real for the first time, remembers noting his green eyes and his bow legs. He remembers realising that Dean didn’t want to be saved, didn’t think he deserved it, and he remembers being taken with him from that point on. At first, it was just fascination for Cas. But it became more; the more he saw of Dean, the more enamored he became. Dean wasn’t just a person, he wasn’t just a human, he was a hero. A man full of love and selflessness and self-hate. He was trying so hard to make people happy and Cas went from fascinated to infatuated to in love relatively quick. Quicker than he consciously realised.

The barn only reminds Cas of that. It reminds him of Dean and everything about Dean that makes Cas love him so much. His fight, his fire, his determination. 

Despite it being a somewhat routine hunt, they’re both on guard. It’s a risk, somewhat, since Cas is no longer an angel and is quite a bit more breakable, but hey, if he’s human now, the least he can do is hunt. And besides, if he dies, there’s a chance he goes to the Empty. That he might see Dean again.

There are more vampires than they realised there were going to be, and things go south relatively quickly. Sam is unconscious in the corner and while they’ve taken out more than half of the vampires, it’s still Cas vs three of them now.

Cas is still learning how to exist as a hunter without his angel powers. He can’t just smite them, and he’s only got human strength. He’s no slob, even as a human, but he’s not Dean or Sam either. He’s never needed to be before now. 

He’s on his ass with two vampires standing over him before he knows it, and Cas is wondering if this is going to be the end. Already. And in such a stupid way. He would never forgive himself if Dean gave up everything to save him and he died in such a stupid way. 

The door swings open and for a split second, Cas thinks he’s hallucinating. 

But no, he’s not.

Right there, in the flesh, machete in hand, is Dean Winchester. 

**  
Dean’s eyes open and he looks around. He’s in complete blackness and for a split second, he sees nothing. The Empty is quiet, he realises, no one is awake. No one except him, that is. Because Dean is very much awake.

He has no idea how long it’s been, but the fact that he’s here means it worked at least. Maybe he can go to sleep. He knows he fought his way out last time, but this is different. He’s made his peace with this as his ending. He figures his last act should be one of love rather than violence. He figures that’s a far nicer fate for him, and if he got to choose his own legacy, that’d be it. 

But it seems Dean never does get a choice in his own fate, because he’s barely been awake for any time at all (or at least, it doesn’t feel like he has) when he’s met with a familiar face. Dean had been laying flat on his back in the nothingness, arms folded behind his head, legs folded at the ankles, eyes closed.

But he hears the familiar whoosh, and when his eyes open, Jack is leaning over him, one hand raised in his familiar pose, “Hello!” 

Dean just blinks up at him, taken off guard by his sudden appearance.

“Jack…?” He asks, confused, worried. “Why are you here? How did the empty get you? Chuck didn’t get you, did he?” His voice is rising, getting gradually more panicked.

“Oh, no!” Jack is quick to fill in, though he still sounds like his excitable self. “I’m fine. I came here by choice.”

Dean blinks his confusion, sitting upright, then pulling himself to his feet. “What? Why?”

He sounds harsher than he means to, but he’s worried and confused and Jack is looking at him with that puppy expression that reminds him so much of Cas that Dean wonders if they’re not biologically related somehow. It makes his heart ache, reminds him of Cas and of Jack and of their lives and their family. Jack is here, but Dean is still all anxiety. He did what he did so they could be safe— so why is Jack here at all?

“It’s over, Dean.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean feels overwhelmed, afraid. The kid has given him so little context that he could mean the world is totally over for all he knows. 

“Chuck. We stopped him. It’s done.” Dean blinks a few times, confused. He waits for Jack to elaborate. 

“I’m God. Sort of.” 

Dean’s jaw drops. Between Cas, Sam and him, none of them ever had good fathers. Should they really have been allowed to raise God? That couldn’t be good. He can’t find words, so Jack continues.

“I absorbed Michael and Lucifer’s energy when they died, and Castiel’s grace, and—“

“Cas’ grace?” Dean cuts in, frowning. “Is he…?”

“He’s fine. Human.” Jack explains. “It was a sacrifice.” He gives Dean a pointed look, and Dean is immediately sure Cas told them what he said. Part of him wants to talk it down, to be embarrassed, but instead, he holds his chin up a little higher and ignores his burning cheeks. 

“So… Chuck’s dead?”

“No.” Jack always sounded so calm, Dean notes quietly, like he wasn’t bothered by any of it. “He’s alive, but human. He’ll waste away and die like every other human. Totally powerless.” 

Dean has about a thousand more questions, but they all escape him all of a sudden. “How long ago…?” It could’ve been any amount of time for all Dean knows. Sam and Cas could both be… 

“A few weeks,” Jack admits. “I had things to do. Before I could get you.” 

Dean stares at him a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “And…?” He asks, confused. “What do you mean get me?”

“You’re coming back with me.” Jack tells him brightly, as though it’s obvious. 

He frowns, “To where? Heaven?” 

Jack nods brightly, “I could use your help. I’m redoing it.” 

Dean nods slowly, “And when Cas and Sam die…?”

“They’ll join you in Heaven. You’ll be waiting for them.”

*

Dean doesn’t mind helping Jack. It’s different from what he was expecting, but the kid has bright ideas. He’s going to be a good God, and the whole thing is so ridiculous Dean could laugh or cry. 

He’s helping rebuild Heaven for his son, the nephilim son of Lucifer, so that the angel love of his life and brother could come when they died. 

If he could only go back and tell a twenty-six year old Dean that now… He was sure the younger version of him would hit him. But then, Dean has always struggled with his anger. With his resentment. His life, as long as he can remember, has been about other people. Dean has never regretted a second of that-- every choice he’s ever made has been worth it if it ends with his family free and happy. But Dean could never have known where he’d be now. He never would’ve guessed he’d fall for an angel. That he’d raise a nephilim son. 

“Did I ever tell you I didn’t believe in angels?” Dean asks Jack, as they walk through the street they’ve built, the place that will be taken up by the people they love, the new home that was basically like Earth, just without all the pain and suffering and monsters. 

He wishes he has a better idea of what to create for Cas, but he can think of little other than an excess of honey, and a place just for him. The room he should’ve had in the bunker. 

Jack glances up at him, “No. But I’m not surprised,” He answers with a half smile, “You’ve always been cynical.”

Dean scoffs, but can’t deny it. “Can you blame me, kid?”

Jack laughs, shakes his head, and gives Dean a fond look. Dean moves to sit on the porch of the house he’s made. It’s empty, built for his family, not a necessity, but an offering. They can have whatever they want when they come here, but Dean has to wait somewhere. This is as good a place as any.

He tries not to think about a human Cas. He tries not to think about Sam and Cas in the bunker, trying to move on. He tries not to imagine being able to sleep in Cas’ arms. He tries not to imagine the three of them ageing and going on a holiday together. Tries not to think about how if Sammy ever does get married, he won’t be there. He tries not to think about Sammy having a kid he’ll never get to meet. He tries not to think about the inevitable future where Cas moves on. Tries not to think about all the things he’ll miss, and how desperately he wanted to live.

He knows he’s spent his entire life joking about the fact that there’s no way he’ll ever be free, that he was always going to die young, but there’s a part of Dean that’s always longed for more.

There’s a part of Dean that longed for a house with a garage and a picket fence and a kid and a pool and a Christmas Tree. Things he’s never had, things he’s always shoved down wanting, because it was too hard. Because it hurt too much to want things he’d never have.

But Cas knows now, Dean has done the honesty thing, and there’s no re-closing those doors. He can’t pretend anymore, not even to himself, and he’s sure Jack can see it too.

That longing has always been there, but never more than now. 

He figures Sam still has a chance at that. He’s tried to create a place for Sam here too, a place where he can be happy, the home he’s always deserved, but he also figures Sam still has a shot at getting that back on Earth. He has Eileen, he’s still young, smarter than anyone else Dean’s ever known. He can still have the life he’s always wanted, if he takes it. Dean feels confident that Cas will help push him towards that happiness. He hopes Sam will return the same favour to Cas too. He hates to think of the former angel moving on, hates the way it burns his chest, the way it twists his stomach, but he’s trying hard not to be selfish, even in his own thoughts.

“No.” Jack’s answers break through Dean’s thoughts. He moves to sit beside Dean, and Dean forgets for a moment who he is. He’s not God. He’s Dean’s son. The sweet kid who tried so hard to be better than his nature. Dean could relate. He knew Sam and Cas could too. “But I think you should try not to be.”

Dean glances up, surprised by Jack’s answer somewhat. He waits for the kid to elaborate.

“You and Cas, you were the first real act of free will.” 

Dean’s only more stumped now. He raises his brows, no idea how to process that information, “What d'ya mean?”

“Well, you weren’t supposed to happen. Everything else… it was what he planned, right? Like those books, like… like eating Amara. Everything else was a plan of some kind. But not you two. Never, not in any other universe, did you…” He gestures vaguely, like he’s trying to find the right description. Love isn’t something Jack is particularly knowledgeable about, but which of their family is? “You changed each other. And it saved the world.”

Dean just sits for a moment, thinking this through. Chuck had said as much, that he didn’t know why this Sam and Dean and Cas didn’t fall to his plans when every other did. Dean had said the same to Cas too-- that he changed Dean. Jack is right, he thinks. He certainly can’t find any reasons to disprove Jack. “Son of a bitch,” He mutters. “Gay love really can pierce through the veil.”

Jack shoots him an inquisitive look, but Dean just shakes it away casually. 

“Hey, kid…” He begins, glancing up, “I know… I know you’re tryin’ to right things up here. I know that’s why… that’s why you brought me up here and not back down there. I… I appreciate it. I really appreciate you bringin’ me out of that place, letting me help make this place right. But…”

“You want to go back.” Jack looks like he’s not even remotely surprised, but besides that, Dean really can’t read his expression. He knows he’ll probably say no, but he has to ask. He has to try. Besides, never giving up is sort of his thing. What he’s known for. Dean just nods.

Jack sits in silence for a moment, thinking about it. “If… If I let this happen,” Jack says softly, “That’s it. There can’t be do-overs. This is your last shot. I have to make this right, Dean. I have to fix the balance of things.” 

Dean nods seriously, his eyes meeting Jack’s. “No more do-overs.” He says, “Even if I die tomorrow by getting a piano dropped on me again, I won’t ever ask for help with this again.”

Jack nods, but then turns to him, brows furrowing, “Piano? Again?”

Dean waves it off, “Long story. Your uncle trapped Sammy in a time loop where I died like a thousand times over. Got a piano dropped on me.”

Jack blinks at him, and Dean can see that same kid. He’s different now, no denying it, but he’s still just as sweet and innocent beneath it all. Dean loves that about him. It reminds him of Sammy too. He really is a Winchester. 

“Okay, Dean.” He says quietly. 

Dean gets to his feet, waits for Jack to follow his lead and throws his arms around the younger boy. Jack’s all powerful now, he’s the big kahuna, and yet Dean remembers his first days on Earth. Remembers how excited he was to learn to drive and just to spend a day fishing with Dean. 

Dean holds him tightly, squeezes his eyes shut. “I know things haven’t always been smooth sailin’.” Dean says softly, patting him on the back of the head, “But I want you to know I love you. We all love you. You’re always a Winchester. And you’re always gonna be our kid.” 

The floodgates are well and truly open, because that makes Jack the fourth person he’s ever said those words too, and he can’t even bring himself to struggle with it. Jack is family. John never told Sammy and Dean he loved them. Never that he was proud of them. John had raised them into soldiers, into fighters. He’d raised them to fear their own feelings.

Dean hates to think he’s done anything like that to Jack, so if this is his last chance, he’ll try to impart him with love. With affirmation. “I’m proud of you.” He tells him, and he means it. He couldn’t be prouder of Jack.

When they pull back, Jack has tears in his eyes. “I love you too, Dean… Dad.” 

Now they’re both crying, and it takes a moment for Jack to speak again. 

“They could use you now.” He tells him, and before Dean can respond, he’s standing in the dirt, in the dark, outside a barn. 

The barn.

**

Both Cas and Sam are awake enough to have noticed, and the vampires have too, rounding on the eldest Winchester. Dean is smirking, and even in this shitty barn lighting, Cas notes that he’s all cheekbones and searing green eyes. 

Cas watches in shock as Dean makes short work of the three remaining vampires. The bodies drop with a thud and Dean wipes the machete off on one of their jackets, looking like some distant, badass herculean hero. Cas has always been affected by Dean, but never more so than now. He’s human, fully aware of his feelings for Dean and knows what it’s like to live without him. Knows what it’s like to be human without him.

If being an angel dampened his feelings, dampened the longing he felt, it is doing nothing of the sort now. Because Castiel can feel the wave of emotions drowning him, and he can’t quite make them out.

He’s so sad. So angry. So happy. So frustrated. So afraid. He feels too many things, and he wonders how Sam or Dean ever managed to explain anything they were feeling. Suddenly, he feels bad for ever thinking they were bad at communication, because for all their suffering, they were still doing a helluva lot better than Cas is right now. 

Dean stands there, breathing heavily. He looks different, is dressed differently from how Cas last saw him, which undoubtedly means he’s seen Jack, who has cleaned him up. Still, he looks like himself, as if no time has passed at all.

Really, it hasn’t been that long. A few months since Cas and Sam lost him, since Jack left, but it feels like a long time. For Castiel, who has lived millions of years, it feels strange to think of a few months as a long time. But he’s tired and human and he was never in love before in those years. 

No one moves, and time seems to stretch on. Cas is still out of breath, and his back hurts from where he was thrown to the ground a few moments before, but he’s also too stunned to move, because he has no idea how this happening or what it means, and a part of him is terrified that he’s going to see Dean’s black eyes or the like again. That had been torture enough at the time, Cas doesn’t need to deal with it again. 

It’s Sam who moves first. He gets to his feet, walks tentatively towards Dean, the silence hanging heavy between them. 

Before he can get within a few feet of him, Dean finally breaks the silence.

“I leave you two alone for ten fucking minutes and you nearly get ganked by a fucking nest?” He throws the machete halfheartedly and it hits the floor with a clank, making both Cas and Sam jump slightly. Dean’s brows are furrowed, but neither of the other two answer for a moment.

“How?” Sam breathes out.

“Jack.” Dean answers like it’s obvious, wiping his hands off on his jeans.

Cas still hasn’t moved, hasn’t so much as breathed, and Dean hasn’t looked at him either. The ball is in Cas’ court, but he’s still sorting through his ten thousand new emotions, unable to put anything into words. Dean’s eyes are barely passing over either of them, and though he looked like some kind of warrior hero a few moments before, now, he just looks like a man. 

Scarred, bow legged, ageing, lined, with blood staining his clothes. Despite all that, Cas can’t think of anything he’s ever seen that’s more beautiful than this. Dean, living and breathing, back in the world. 

Sam takes a few more steps and throws his hands around his brother. Dean accepts the hug, hugging him back. He has a smile on his face and Cas just stares, still trying to find anything. A solid feeling, a solid word, a solid thought. He finds nothing, he just stares.

Sam and Dean exchange tearful words, and they hug more than once. Cas barely hears a word of it, his own heart drumming a chorus line in his ears. He watches, watches them reunite, watches the two brothers he’s come to consider his only real family exchange relief and happiness. Chuck is gone. They’re finally free. They’ve both made it out, they’ve both got a chance. They can have lives. They can go on a holiday. They can live. 

Finally, after what feels like forever, Dean’s eyes fall directly on Cas and he gives a shy sort of smile. 

“Cas.”

He feels something reignite in his bones and he gets to his feet, suddenly feeling alive again. His feelings are still flying all over the place, out of his control, far outside his comprehension of his own new human feelings. Of his grief and relief and fear.

Maybe he’s misunderstood Dean. The nonchalant way Dean is looking at him makes Cas feel like maybe he’s misunderstood. Still, he can’t help it. It doesn’t matter-- if he’s going to embarrass himself, so be it. It’s not like there’s anything Sam doesn’t already know at this point.

He stalks forward, and he’s only inches away from Dean when he talks again, poking Dean in the chest, probably too hard. 

“How could you fucking do that to me?” Cas is shouting, and Dean’s eyes are wide, any hint of mirth in his eyes well and truly gone. He steps backward, his eyes fluttering. Cas barely has time to think about what he’s doing, but somehow he makes time to notice Dean’s freckles. To notice his wide green eyes. To notice his eyelashes. The way he holds his hands up at his sides in surrender. Evidently, he hadn’t been expecting this sort of reaction from Cas. Which was fair, Cas wasn’t expecting this sort of reaction from himself either. 

“After everything? After twelve years of me giving up everything for you, of betraying my family, my home, my very purpose, all of it, because of you, how could you say that to me and then leave me here?!” He’s still yelling, and all of his anger feels, even now, even to him, like it’s hiding something else, but Cas isn’t experienced enough with his own feelings yet to know how to fix that. What he does know is that Dean keeps backing up until he’s against a barn wall, and Cas is right up in his space in a moment, all anger.

They’ve been like this before, Cas realises. In that alleyway, with his forearm against Dean’s neck, yelling about how Cas had given it all up for him. He thinks of their other fights not so long ago, and how he told Dean that no one except his closest kin had ever done as much for him. It’s still true, but everything’s taken on a different shade now.

Dean must know Cas loves him, Cas has never really hidden it, he just hasn’t been sure exactly how to express it. He must know because Cas has given up everything for him. Absolutely everything, again and again. He’s chosen the Winchesters, even when they’ve had no faith in him. Even when they’ve taken him for granted or sold him out. He’s always chosen Dean.

“Cas, I--” 

Cas cuts him off again, “I didn’t even get to answer you, you-- you-- cotton headed ninny muggins!” 

Dean’s eyes are fluttering more now, and he couldn’t possibly look any more confused. It wasn’t a good insult, but in truth, Cas can’t think of any other insult right now, and he’s only just watched ‘Elf’ with Sam and Eileen a few days before, so it’s all he has right now, in the height of his emotional turbulence. 

Just like that, Cas can’t take it anymore. Overwhelmed by all his emotion, he virtually stomps out of the barn, like a child having a tantrum. 

He knows, on some level, he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t force himself to calm down, the emotions feel overwhelming, and seeing Dean hasn’t helped. Being so close to Dean hasn’t helped. His skin feels like it burns where he’d pressed it against Dean, where he’d shoved Dean up against the barn wall in his anger. He’s said it before, but he never gave them enough credit for how much it really did suck to be human. 

*

Cas walks out, and Dean’s eyes turn to Sam, blown wide and full of confusion. 

Sam simply shrugs at him, seeming far more calm than Cas was. He had been expecting Sam to be the one to get upset at him, not Cas, but maybe Cas’ reaction has brought Sam back down to Earth. Or maybe they’ve just seen each other die too many times now for it to have the same effect. Maybe Sam is waiting till later to yell at him. Honestly, whatever it is, Dean can’t blame him.

“Eileen made us watch ‘Elf’.” Sam supplies, and Dean figures that’s his way of explaining the insult, though Dean can’t actually recall ever having seen the Christmas movie, so he’s still not sure what it actually means. 

“What the fuck was that?” Dean asks, because despite Sam’s shrug, he figures Sam probably understands better than he does. After all, Sam has been with human Cas for months now, while Dean was with Jack in Heaven. 

Sam shrugs again, but actually answers this time. “He’s human now.” Sam says softly, “And you… sorta left him in a weird place.” 

Dean sighs, “I was trying to do the right thing.” He grumbles, running a hand over his face. “So you know?”

He figured that Cas would’ve told Sam, but hearing Sam say it now feels totally different to Dean, and he has no idea how Sam will even react.

“Yeah, I do.” He walks closer and rests a hand on Dean’s shoulders, “Just in case you were wondering, from the bottom of my heart, I do not care. You’ll always be my jerk big brother.”

It seems like a stupid thing to feel emotional over, but Dean and his stupid floodgates are open, so he has to blink back tears. “Bitch.” He answered, trying to sound casual, but having to wipe a tear away as he does. It sort of muddies the effect.

“You should probably go talk to him.”

Dean sighs, knowing Sam is right, but not really ready to handle whatever waits for him outside the barn.

“You’re right.” He says slowly, but doesn’t move. Instead, he asks another question he needs to know the answer to. “Did he say whether he…?”

Sam sighs, and Dean immediately knows what’s coming. “You’re not that stupid, Dean. Go.”

He knows it was a long shut, but he had to try, right?

Dean frowns at Sam, and he thinks Sam might be able to yell at him too, so, hunching his shoulders over like a child, only partly for Sam’s amusement, he follows Cas outside of the barn. The whole thing is so awkward, and Dean knows that’s partially his fault, but fuck, how do people do this?

Life isn’t a romcom, Dean knows that, especially not their lives, but wasn’t this shit meant to be easy? Why did he feel like his heart was about to fall out of his ass?

He opens the doors, and at first, he can’t see Cas. He looks around into the open space, regretting the fact that it’s night when he has to handle this issue. 

“Cas…?” He calls, looking around for some sign of the angel he fell in love with so long ago.

He hears nothing at first, so he keeps walking, looking around, and when he finally catches sight of Cas, he’s sitting on the hood of the impala. On another day, something like this might annoy Dean, but honestly, he’s just glad to be here. Glad to be able to speak to Cas again. Glad his heart was beating at all.

“Hey, sunshine.” He says as he pulls himself up beside Cas, trying not to look as awkward and overwhelmed as he feels about all this. It was him who put himself out there, of course, but he did leave after. He can understand why Cas is having this reaction, even if it’s a bit intense, because Dean would likely be feeling the same way. 

None of them is particularly wonderful at expressing their feelings. Sam’s probably the best at it, which doesn’t say anything good for any of them. 

“When you said love…?” Cas begins, but his voice is quiet and hard to read. 

Dean sighs. He thinks he was perfectly clear, but he supposes the day a Winchester opts for the less self-loathing interpretation will be the day hell freezes over.

“In love. I am in love with you. All that sappy, chick-flick bullshit I’ve spent my whole-ass life running from.” 

Cas looks momentarily perplexed, and Dean wonders if he’s ruined everything. 

“Human emotions are so confusing.” Cas tells him, and Dean nods slowly, his own heart sinking uncomfortably. 

“Preachin’ to the choir, bud.” 

Cas fiddles awkwardly with the hem of his shirt, and it takes Dean a second too long to realise. It’s his shirt. Or it was, anyway. It’s not the first time Cas has worn his clothes, he doubts it’ll be the last, but it takes on a new meaning now. After everything else, everything Dean said. 

Dean waits, patiently, trying to tell himself that if Cas doesn’t feel the same way, he can deal with that. That surely he’s dealt with worse heartbreak. Of course, romantic rejection isn’t something Dean’s had a lot of, but this isn’t some girl at a bar. This is Cas. This is his best friend. This is the person who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.

“If… if this was a chick-flick,” Cas mumbles, his voice sort of slow and tentative, “What would happen next?”

Dean’s eyes flick up, and he finds himself focusing on the features of Cas’ face. How many times has he found himself accidentally staring at Cas’ lips? How many times has he stared into his eyes, the blue a constant amongst all the blood and death? How many times has he dreamt of him? Of being together, of belonging to each other? 

Still, it’s not about Cas’ face. Not really. It’s a bonus, but it isn’t only this face he loves. It’s Cas, for everything he is. For his loyalty and his sacrifice and his rebellion and his humour and for all the times Dean has felt like the world was on fire, only to look over and find Cas at his side. He would love Cas in any body, in any world. 

“Uh… if this was a chick-flick…” Dean repeats, shifting a little closer to Cas on the car, turning his body so that he’s facing Cas, who is still looking straight ahead. “I would…” He reaches out, one of his calloused hands resting gently on the far side of Cas’ face, the side he couldn’t see, gently turning it to face him. “And then…” He leans in closer, his breathing heavy. He’s not sure he was even this nervous for his first kiss, but he’s not going to bitch out now. He’s already done the hardest part, right? Cas knows Dean loves him. Only a breath away from Cas, he pauses, giving the new human time to stop him if he wants to.

Instead, Dean feels Cas’ hands on either side of his face, and then Cas is kissing him. Dean is putty in his hands, just trying to get closer, just trying to hold desperately onto this moment. He lets his hand fall, running over Cas’ chest as it settles at his hip, moving closer. The moment feels like fire in his veins, Cas’ hands on his face and neck send shivers out from that spot. Dean can’t remember why he wasn’t doing this for the whole twelve years. 

They probably should leave, get Sammy and go, talk more at the bunker, but neither pulls away just yet. At some point, one of Cas’ hands falls, tailing along his arm as it goes, before eventually taking his hand and intertwining their fingers. 

The moment is hardly what Dean would call chaste, especially when Cas lets out a soft sound and Dean suddenly thinks a car and a public place aren’t that bad for the first time. 

It’s Cas who eventually breaks away, and Dean hears a sort of mournful whine escape his own mouth. 

“I’m in love with you too.” Cas says quickly, and he’s trying to hide a smile, but he’s failing, because it’s bright on his face still. “Like, give up on Heaven and Hell in love with you.” He teases, and Dean wonders how he didn’t see that sooner? Cas is right to tease, it was right there. Still, Dean can’t resist.

“You joke, but you could’ve said something.”

“Yes, well, you could’ve said something before you were going to die too, Dean. And you did say I was like your brother once.”

“I was lying. Twelve years, Cas.”

“I believed you. Twelve years, Dean.”

“We get it, you’re a very stupid married couple that took twelve years to realise you were married. Can we leave now?” Sam’s grumble sounds far off, and neither can see him in the dark, which means he probably can’t see them either, but he’s definitely heard their bickering. 

They all move to get into the car, and instinctively, Dean goes for the driver’s seat. Sam has to throw him the keys, but they settle back into their usual rhythm fairly quickly. Sam is shotgun, Cas is in the back, there’s Zeppelin blaring through the speakers as they drive back towards the bunker.

When they arrive back at their home, Dean is surprised to see the dog that greets him at the door. He eyes the other two, but they just smile. 

“He sleeps in our bed,” Cas says, then immediately reddens and stairs at the ground. 

“Our bed?” Dean asks, brows raising. He tries to keep his expression straight, tries not to let on that he’s holding in a smile, but not much about Dean is straight, so he winds up with a crooked grin on his face anyway. 

Sam chuckles and walks off down the hall, presumably to his own bedroom, leaving the two of them, plus this random dog, to settle whatever just happened. “Better go check on Eileen.” He tells them as he walks away, and Dean is momentarily distracted by the realisation that she’s living here with his brother. He’s relieved, and happy, but he can deal with that tomorrow.

“When you left, I…” He moves to pick the dog up, holding it out towards Dean. It sniffs at him, then licks Dean’s face happily. Dean pulls a face, but even he has to admit, the dog is downright adorable. Cas obviously knew he would have this reaction too-- no way was that an accident. “I started sleeping in your room. You were gone and I didn’t know what to do. Miracle here… He sleeps with me. I think that’s why he likes you. He’s used to your smell.”

“I don’t smell that bad,” Dean defends with a frown, “How can it even still smell like me in there after months.”

There’s a moment of silence before Cas answers. “It doesn’t. Not anymore.” He sounds sad, and Dean almost can’t bear it. 

“Well, I’m still going to need to mock you about just moving into my room, but…” He takes a step forward, curling his arms around Cas, dog included, and kissing his forehead. It’s weird, still, to be able to do this, but Dean finds he likes it. The casual affection he’s never had before. “It’s also kinda…” He looks shy, and he can’t feel it. He’s not good at moments like this. “Cute.”

Cas is smiling, and so is Dean, and they’re making their way back to Dean’s bedroom, Miracle following behind them, dripping drool as he goes. 

When they get back, they’re both exhausted and Cas is a little banged up from the hunt, but neither really wants to do anything except sleep. They probably both need showers, but instead, they simply strip down to boxers and t-shirts and get into the bed. Miracle joins them after only a moment, curling into Dean as if he’s known him forever, as if he’s already chosen Dean as his other parent. Cas cuddles into Dean’s other shoulder and closes his eyes.

All the way home, Dean had been imagining a more… physical reunion, what they would do when they were alone in a room, all feelings out in the open, but honestly, he is more than happy with this. Both Miracle and Cas are out before Dean, so he has a minute just to watch the two. Cas’ eyes shut, his mouth open slightly as he sleeps. He looks sort of innocent, Dean thinks, as if he hasn’t been alive since almost the beginning of time, as if he hasn’t carried so much pain and trauma. He seems happy, asleep in Dean’s arms with Miracle between their legs, and Dean can hear Miracle’s even breathing too. He hadn’t really signed on for a fur child, but the dog clearly makes Cas happy, and honestly, Dean sort of loves it. 

It’s normal. They deserve normal, both of them. 

Before Dean closes his own eyes and tries to sleep, he looks up at the ceiling, mumbling in a voice quiet enough not to disturb either Cas or Miracle, but he realises quickly he needn’t have worried, they’re both out like a light. “Thanks, kid.” He breaths out, “Love you.”


End file.
